The Way to a Man's Heart
by i'm okay now
Summary: Hotch is outside Spencer's apartment, debating whether to go inside and do what he came to do. The decision is quickly taken out of his hands. Sequel to Women's Intuition. Hotch/Reid. Don't like, don't read! T for mild language.


**A/N: Sorry it took me so long to post this! I was trying to go for a more humorous sequel, kind of the same tone as **_**Woman's Intuition,**_** but it simply didn't want to get written. This is a bit more serious than the first—but not that serious, because all I can write apparently is comedy, haha. Hope you like it!**

Hotch stood outside the door to Spencer's apartment, battling internally with himself. Part of him wanted to march in there and admit to what he'd been denying to himself for years, but the larger part of him wanted to turn tail and run.

"Screw it," he muttered to himself, and he stepped forward to knock on the door.

It opened before he'd even touched it, revealing a gently smiling Spencer Reid.

"I was wondering if you were ever going to knock," he said with a quiet laugh, leaning against the doorway. Hotch noticed several things at once:

First, Reid had obviously known he was there (probably saw his car as he'd passed by a window).

Second, Reid seemed the most comfortable in his own skin that he'd seen in years.

Third, he was dressed in blue jeans and a band t-shirt, the most casual and dressed to his age that he'd ever seen.

Last, with that confident grin and form-fitting jeans, Spencer Reid looked incredibly, undeniably, hot.

"Umm" was the most intelligent reply Hotch could think of.

"Come on in," said the young agent, opening the door for his boss. "Sorry it's a bit messy, but…" he trailed off with a shrug, as if to say "What are ya gonna do?"

"Anyway," the lanky man continued, "Since you don't usually make house calls, I can assume I'm either being fired or you wanted to talk with me. Judging by your hesitancy to knock on the door, I can further assume it's the latter. If it were work-oriented, like a lay-off, you'd just suck it up and do it because you had to. Am I right?" He'd led his boss into the kitchen and offered him a seat, which Hotch had taken. The supervisory special agent nodded; then, steeling himself, opened his mouth—

Only to say "You're dressed differently." Not what he'd planned to say.

"What, this?" Reid asked, plucking at the dark t-shirt. "Yeah, Garcia go them for me, trying to 'upgrade my wardrobe' or something utterly Garcia-ish. I usually don't wear it, but most of my clothes are at the dry-cleaner's, so…Hey, you want something?" he said, gesturing toward the fridge.

"Sure." Hotch replied. Hey, he was regaining control over his speech! That was good.

"Actually, the jeans aren't that bad," Reid added a few moments later, bent over and rummaging through the refrigerator.

_They sure aren't,_ Hotch thought to himself, appreciatively observing the younger's ass.

Reid returned from his foraging, a glass of water and some fudge in hand; which Hotch accepted with a quiet "Thank you." Reid sat down opposite him.

"So, what is it you wanted to talk about?" he asked. Hotch closed his eyes, readied himself, and after finishing a piece of fudge answered.

"Spencer, for a long time I've been ignoring something." He began. He didn't plan what he was going to say before he said it, simply letting it flow from his heart—it usually worked better for him that way.

"After Hayley's death, however, I couldn't ignore it anymore. I'm hopelessly attracted to you. I just thought that I should tell you, so then at least you know…I completely understand if you don't feel the same way, or are disgusted by me now and want me to keep my distance. I just…I just wanted you to know." He trailed off lamely.

Reid blinked. Then he looked at the fudge. "I think I made that wrong." He said at last. Hotch was nonplussed.

"What?"

"There's rum extract in those, I must have put too much in. I knew I shouldn't try to cook while I'm watching Star Trek reruns, I always get distracted, and now the rum must be affecting you—or maybe it's me, I had a few earlier, but it's inconsequential either way, you still can't possibly have said what I thought you just said—"

"Spencer." Hotch interrupted. "The fudge is delicious; as is everything else you cook. I'm not drunk and neither are you. I know what I said, and I meant it. I really like you."

Reid stared at him. Slowly, a grin broke out across his face. "Good. Because I like you too, Hotch."

The fudge was promptly forgotten.

**A/N2: That fudge that Reid was talking about, I have actually made. I gave it to my brother to try, but instead of eating the fudge he tried to drink the entire bottle of rum extract XD **


End file.
